23. Astral Assault

"Are you alright, Doctor?"

Joseph nodded, staring at the ground. The adrenaline had faded, so the pain in his foot came back full force.

*This can't be real... There has to be a plausible, rational explanation.*

The doctor looked over at Filip Svoboda, who was covered in the dark green cape the prince had lent to him. The boy was staring at the ground, his movements still slow as he held Joseph's arm like an old woman unable to cross the road by herself. He seemed oblivious, lost in thoughts, but Joseph knew that talking about what had happened to Rainier in front of him might not be good.

"Where is your sword, if I might ask?"

"The demon stole it...I believe."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Not as much as I am."

The prince frowned, raising his chin and advancing several steps forward.

Joseph took a closer look at Tariq's clothes and found them ripped below the navel, just like Filip and the dead boys. He refused to think of what might have happened to the prince if Joseph hadn’t decided to look for them.

A part of the doctor was offended by the prince's tone and sudden distance when he had mentioned the sword; he shook his head, staring at Svoboda, the involuntary source of all this drama.

*This whole situation must have been quite humiliating for the prince as well… Maybe the sword was a family heirloom. Maybe some ancestor of his used it to conquer something. And now he’s lost it while trying to help someone. If my family had given me something so ancient and important, I would be upset, too.*

They stopped their march when they neared the shining glow of the lampposts within the walls of the university. None of the three boys had exchanged a single word since they left the site where the little boy Rainier was supposed to be. Joseph had wrapped the tiny bouquet of chrysanthemums around his bag, the white of the petals almost as bright as the fire burning on Prince Tariq's club.

"Wait," the prince said, raising his arm to stop Joseph and Filip. "We can't just appear all together like this, with two of us practically naked, or they’ll pester us with questions."

The doctor and Svoboda stared at each other for a moment. Then Joseph shrugged.

"Do you have any ideas?"

"You go to the infirmary first. If the nurse asks you, you might say you just wanted to walk around, or..."

"Of course. I'll think of something."

"I'll take Svoboda to our dorm room."

Joseph turned to him, his blue eyes wide like two marbles nearly falling from his sockets.

"W-Wait! What about those cuts on your head? You're bleeding!"

"They're irrelevant." the prince said, raising an eyebrow.

Filip stood as silent as a statue with his head covered by the hood, looking from the prince to the doctor as he gripped his coat. He seemed as curious as a cat, wondering about the noise, but apparently clueless as to what these two morons were talking about.

"They need to be sutured! It might get infected! You could faint before you even make it to the room, and then the overseers will definitely snitch on you and Svoboda to the dean!"

"What do you suggest then? Should the three of us just hold each other’s hands and go to the infirmary, singing about how we stayed out the whole fucking night?"

"Jesus! Why are you being so flippant about this?"

A hand that looked like it was made of wax reached out between the two boys.

"I... h-... id...a." Svoboda started, gesticulating and waving slowly, as if to compensate for the lack of his voice.

"You what?"

"He has an idea." Tariq raised his hand for Joseph to stay quiet. "We're listening."

Fillip nodded, putting both hands open in front of his chin.

"Selden... f...mary. H...ness... I... room."

He stayed silent for a few seconds to catch his breath again, grimacing as he stroked his throat.

"I call... o..v...er... say... prince... hit.... head. Then... he... infir...ry."

"I can't understand him."

"He said you should go to the infirmary first, and we'll go to our dorm room. Then he’ll call an overseer and say I hit my head while I was...I don't know, bathing. Then I’ll go to the infirmary to have the cuts sutured."

Joseph scratched his head. Filip nodded, raising his thumb at Tariq.

"And who's going to take care of him?"

"After she fixes me up, I can go back and keep an eye on him."

Joseph stared at both of them.

*Well, it will have to work. Soon it’ll be morning, and things will be harder to explain under the sun...*

***

"Your splint is all cracked and your foot is sore. Why the hell did you go out in the middle of the night?"

Joseph saw no concern in the younger Mrs. Weber’s eyes. She kept staring at him with that light brown gaze, frowning, with her arms crossed in front of her massive chest.

*Maybe she thinks I went rampant on some sort of frenzy...*

"I apologise, Mrs. Weber. I had a hard time falling asleep and felt unsettled because I'm not used to spending so much time bedridden. I didn't mean to cause any worries."

"You should have told me. I would've given you something for you to sleep." The nurse went over to a tall cabinet out of Joseph's line of sight from the bed. He could hear metallic sounds as well as the sounds of porcelain clinking together.

The young doctor sunk into his pillows and pulled up his blankets. The chrysanthemums were in a glass cup with water, resting on the windowsill closest to his bed. He was wearing, again, just a clean shirt, covered up by clean sheets. If it weren't for the injuries on his foot and hand, he might very well think that everything that had happened was nothing more than a nightmare.

His eyes teared up again, remembering the dead boys, and Rainier. This time he was alone, so he allowed the tears to flow.

*God... I... I really hope they’re in a better situation now. May they find some peace…*

Joseph remembered Rainier’s words:

*You're nice, Uncle. I like you.*

The doctor dried his eyes on the blankets and closed them. The uneasiness of learning about such cruelty twisted in his chest, making him grimace and sob.

His thoughts of Rainier were soon joined by thoughts about his parents and brothers...

*You disgusting pervert!*

*You should shave his hair...so he’ll learn to be a man...*

*If he were my son, I would just kill him. If you can't do that, just banish him from your home. People like him are a curse on the whole family.*

Joseph opened his eyes and lay on his back, choking on his own sobs, when suddenly he felt as if a walnut were stuck in his throat. He couldn't breathe properly, for the rhythm of his diaphragm was too fast. The more he tried to suck in air, the less he could fill his lungs.

His heart raced, making his chest ache. Soon the pain made it even harder to breathe. His vision darkened and blurred... The flames of the candles swirled...

PANT! PANT! PANT!

"Ah!... What is... Ugh... Mrs. Weber!"

He tried to force his vocal chords to work, but there was no sound. The young doctor was engulfed by a wave of sweltering fear when he noticed he couldn't move a single finger.

From below the bed, shadowy hands reached out and pounded on his chest. They wrapped their fingers around the boy's neck and tried to cover his mouth.

The room became darker and darker, with only a few glimpses of an ochre green light coming from the ground.

*My God, what is this?*

"Mrs. Web-ber! Mrs. W-Weber!"

Joseph looked all around, seeking the nurse, but instead he saw four walls of sand and rock surrounding him. He was back in the ruins of the gothic cathedral, lying six feet under in one of those graves they found the boys in.

GRRR.... GRRRRR....

Four claws as long and sharp as scimitars emerged from the edge of the pit.

The demon was back.

Back for him.

***

In what seemed like a flash, Tariq had changed, putting just a robe on. He helped Svoboda into a clean shirt. He saw the other boy swallow his pills, but again, he pretended not to notice.

He didn't dare look into the mirror, but he could figure how much he was bleeding, given how much blood was clotted in his hair. The prince filled the bathtub and soaked his head in the water so he would both get rid of the clots and look as if he had indeed had an accident while bathing. The contact with the warm water made the blood flow even faster.

Filip was at the door, motioning with his hand, and soon the prince could hear the steps of the overseers running into the room.

The two men were too terrified from the amount of blood to even think about questioning Filip's narrative. In less than ten minutes, they had brought him into the infirmary.

"Dear Lord!" The nurse approached as quickly as a rabbit when she saw the blood. "What happened?"

"I...fell and hit my head in the bathtub."

The nurse took the prince’s arm, steering him towards a bed near the window. Tariq noticed the bouquet in the cup.

"Wait just a moment. I'll prepare to suture you."

It was then he finally noticed Dr. Selden lying on a bed, his eyes rolled halfway back into his head, moaning as tears of blood flowed from the corners of his eyes.

*********

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